


Still Hank

by Johnlocked221b



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Carl Manfred & Markus Parent-Child Relationship, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Needs A Hug, Dementia, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Hank Anderson Needs a Hug, Hank is going through it, Hank isn't completely aware of what he's doing when he attempts, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Memory Loss, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Parent Hank Anderson, Planned Suicide, Poor Connor, Protective Connor, Sad, Sick Character, Small reference to Grey's Anatomy (if you can catch it), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Taking Care of a Sick Parent, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked221b/pseuds/Johnlocked221b
Summary: Hank loses more of himself every day and there is nothing he, or Connor, can do about it
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 26
Kudos: 102





	Still Hank

**Author's Note:**

> This involves the progression of Early-Onset Familial Alzheimer’s Disease, a very rare genetic form of Alzheimer's disease that progresses quickly, and quicker with higher education. It follows, at a basic level, the movie Still Alice, however you do not need to have seen the movie to understand. It is not a happy fic and I am very sorry. :(

It all started the day Hank forgot his keys in the car. Spitting and cursing, he was more than ashamed to have to phone Gavin for the wedge kit. It took the detective five minutes to open the door but it took him five  _ weeks _ to stop teasing Hank about it. 

“You finally losing your mind, old man?” Gavin snickered in the break room as he poured an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee. “Heard the St. Francis home is real nice. Might need to take one of your grandpa sweaters though.”

“Fuck off, Reed.” Hank scowled, then turned to his partner. “If I ever start wearing ‘ _ grandpa sweaters _ ’, put a bullet right here.” Sarcastically, he pointed to his forehead.

Connor smiled softly, recognizing the joke in his inflection.

“Fuckin’  _ grandpa sweater _ ,” Hank grumbled as he left the room. 

* * *

“Anderson! The fuck are you doing?” A sharp voice barked and Hank turned toward it. A cloud of fog cleared from Hank’s mind and he frowned, looking around the hallway that he’d been standing in for the last four minutes. Fowler stood at the end of it, arms out in his confusion. From behind the glass of a holding cell, a woman glared at Hank, arms crossed, and then rolled her eyes when he saw her. 

He’d gotten lost on his way back from the bathroom. In the precinct. What the fuck?

“Uh...just waiting for Connor.” He lied. 

Fowler glared at him and then leaned back to look around the wall. “He’s at his desk where you left him twenty years ago! You need some coffee or something?”

Hank sighed and rubbed at his eyes. It had been a long day. “Shit, probably.” 

“Then go get it and get back to work.” Fowler walked back to his office, shaking his bald head as he went. 

As Hank entered the breakroom, Gavin gave him a smirk. “Alcoholism is a helluva-”

“You really wanna get decked today, don’t you?” Hank scowled. 

* * *

A woman had been found dead in her apartment after three weeks of being left unattended. Originally, the police had suspected foul play but neither Hank nor Connor could find anything that stood out as suspicious. 

The woman, it seemed, had been an addict and had taken a few too many doses of the red ice she was so hooked on. After pushing everyone she knew out of her life, she didn’t have anyone to come check up on her when she didn’t leave her home. It was tragic, sure, but not a homicide. 

Making his way over to Gavin and Detective Collins, Hank crossed his arms. “It’s an accidental death.”

Gavin scrunched his face up and then glanced at Connor. “Uh, yeah. That’s what we were called in for. 9809.” Hank’s blank stare made Gavin chuckle. “The fuck?”

“9809. That’s an overdose.” Hank pointed out as it all came back to him in a wave of information. What could have held that back?

“No fuckin’ shit.” Gavin rolled his eyes, shaking his head and muttering “Jesus Christ, how is that fucker a Lieutenant,” under his breath as he went. 

Connor stepped forward and set a gentle hand on Hank’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day.” His voice was soft, soothing only some of Hank’s frayed nerves. 

Hank glanced at him for a moment and then gave a small nod, “We should go home. This isn’t our gig.”

“Of c-”

“Actually, I need a drink. Let’s swing by Jimmy’s.”

“Hank-”

“Save it.” Hank huffed and pushed past Connor to get to the door. He was clearly bothered by something and that mood persisted for the rest of the night.

* * *

Hank hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving in years. Actually, the last time he had sat down to a home-cooked feast like the one laid out in front of them was nearly a year before the accident. If he’d known it would be Cole’s last Thanksgiving, he wouldn’t have burned the - well, there wasn’t much point in lingering on the regrets.

And while he might not have Cole, he did have Connor. Connor, who had become more and more like a son to him. Connor, who soaked up knowledge and culture like a sponge, and when he learned that Hank celebrated holidays alone, if he even celebrated them at all, had invited everyone they knew to a celebration of their own. Hell, even Reed was invited, along with that unsettling and stern Connor-replica who’d just joined the DPD not even two weeks ago (Hank was almost giddy when he learned Nines had been placed with Reed. Karma was  _ too _ sweet on him sometimes.)

When he finally arrived at the address Connor sent to his phone, he was slightly taken aback. Connor lived  _ here _ ? The place was huge! He’d be really pissed if he learned that his partner made this much and he, a Lieutenant, was still living in a tiny two-bedroom. 

Hank rang the doorbell and shoved his hands in his coat pockets as he waited, watching his breath fog up in front of his face.

Connor opened the door with a small, but pleasant smile. He was dressed in a navy sweater and khakis, just the collar of a white button-up peeking over the neck. Hank nearly snorted when he saw him dressed so stern and proper and that made Connor’s LED cycle yellow for a moment.

“Hank, I’m very glad you came.” The android said, choosing to ignore the amusement on Hank’s face. 

“Didn’t have anywhere else to be,” Hank grumbled slightly, and then looked around when he stepped inside. “Nice place you got here, Connor.”

Connor’s LED cycled yellow again, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Uhh...yeah. Thank you, Hank.” He glanced up when an arm slid around his waist and his LED settled on a soft, calm blue.

“Can I take your coat, Lieutenant?” A smooth voice asked and Hank glanced over from where he was admiring one of the paintings. A Carl Manfred. Connor had interesting tastes. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I think I’ll keep it for now.” He shrugged and then offered his hand. “Hank Anderson.”

The man at Connor’s side blinked in surprise but took his hand anyway. “Markus. We’ve met, I think? Haven’t we?” He glanced at Connor again, who gave a tiny shrug. But he knew. They had met. Many times.

“Shit.” Hank mumbled as he suddenly recognized the other android. “You’re right. Sorry, must be uh...the clothes or something. I meet a lot of androids.”

Markus chuckled, though it was just a slight bit uncomfortable. “It is a new shirt.” He smiled at Connor. “Connor got it for me last weekend.”

Hank smiled. That’s right. Markus and Connor were living together. Engaged. He wouldn’t forget something like that.

“Dinner is almost finished.” Connor pointed out. “I hope you like it.”

“You haven’t let me down yet,” Hank smiled at him. “Let’s go sit down.”

Connor relaxed and nodded, walking with Hank and Markus to the dining room. 

* * *

“Hank, pull over!” Connor didn’t like shouting, but this was a dire situation. Maybe it was the early morning hour, or maybe it was a migraine, but Hank was driving erratically and seemed to be more and more distressed by the minute. 

“No!” Hank shouted back, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I can figure it out! Just let me figure it out!” 

“Hank, you’re putting us both in danger! Please, pull over.” He set a hand on Hank’s arm, LED a bright red. 

Hank glanced at him, eyes wide and full of something Connor had never seen in them before. 

“Hank, please.” He begged and reluctantly, the car was pulled along the curb. Connor reached over to gently put it in park, and then Hank broke down, shoulders heaving as he cried into his hands.

“Oh god. Oh god I could have…” Connor didn’t hear the rest but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what Hank was thinking.

Connor had never seen him like this. It was terrifying. More terrifying than going 60 in a 35 with a man who suddenly couldn’t remember how to get from his home to the police station.

“I think you should see a doctor,” Connor said quietly after a moment, wringing his hands. It had been on his mind for a while, but he didn’t want to upset Hank by worrying too much. “There is a wonderful neurologist at the hospital Markus works-”

“I don’t wanna see a fucking doctor.” Hank protested, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I’m just tired.”

Connor watched him for a moment and then looked out of the window. “Your short-term memory is severely compromised. Your mood changes rapidly. You keep getting lost.” 

“I  _ know _ what it is, Connor!” Hank suddenly shouted. “I...I know what it is, okay? My dad; he did the same thing. He was 60 when it started but they said it was still early.  _ Fuck,  _ I’m only 57.” His blue eyes spilled more tears onto his stubbled cheeks as he looked out of the window. “They said I had a 50% chance of getting the same thing but the genetic test was so expensive and I just thought, if it happens it happens, you know? I’ll live my life like it’s a 100% chance.” He looked down at his hands. 

Connor stared at the side of his face.. His thirium pump ached deep inside his chassis. Hank  _ knew _ ?

“I just thought, maybe I’d get lucky for once in my fucking life. Maybe I could do those stupid fuckin’...brain exercises. Crosswords and shit. Thought maybe I could stop it, I don’t know. Figures, soon as I find something I wanna live for, I gotta start dyin’.” 

“Hank, I…” Connor tried, but he couldn’t find the words. A walking, talking dictionary, and he didn’t have a single answer.

Hank looked over at him with a watery, half-smile. “Least I know you’ll never get it.”

Connor swallowed hard and squeezed his hand. 

* * *

Connor busied himself with sweeping the wood floors of the sitting room while Hank fiddled with his phone. From the speakers positioned on the walls, a swinging jazz number played softly and Connor was happy to hear Hank humming along. 

**_What is your son’s name?_ **

It was a question in a document on Hank’s phone, written by Hank, himself, not a month earlier. He did his best to answer as many important and defining questions about his life as he could, dreading the day when he would forget the answer to one of them.

**_Co_ **

Hank’s brows furrowed for a moment and his thumbs hovered over the keys.

**_Con_ **

He hit backspace once.

**_Cole_ **

Hank set the phone down and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Hank? Do you need a glass of water?” Connor asked, quickly arriving at his side. Hank looked up at him with a frown and then sat up, stretching his back out a little. 

“You’d think  _ you _ were the caretaker android.” Hank hummed and watched the android’s LED pulse blue.

“I may have taken on a slight career change.” Connor poured Hank a glass of water anyway, handing it to him with a little smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Hank sipped the water, glancing up at Connor with a raised brow. “Are you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Connor asked and handed Hank a couple of pills. His medications. A desperate attempt to slow the progression of his death sentence.

“You’re getting married in a month and a half.” Hank said, as if it should be obvious. “I know I wouldn’t want my dear old demented dad, fuckin’ around my house while I’m trying to...consummate.”

Connor’s cheeks went a very slight blue, and his LED yellow. “You don’t have to worry about-”

“No, no I’ll just stay with Nines.” Hank smirked. “You enjoy yourself.”

Connor sighed and dropped himself on the arm of the chair, “Thank you, Hank, but I don’t want to leave you for that long. I don’t feel...” His hands curled in and out of fists as he tried to find the words for what he was feeling.  _ Grief _ was the word most prominent in his mind. He was losing Hank and he wanted to spend every moment with him that he could.

Hank paused and then let out a long sigh, setting his hand over Connor’s. “I’ll be  _ okay _ .” He tried to reassure the android. “Connor, look at me.”

Connor swallowed hard, taking a few long moments before he was able to meet Hank’s eyes. So blue and alive.

“I’ll be  _ fine _ .” 

* * *

“Uh...hey.” Hank sighed and rubbed his arm slightly as he shifted in his seat. “It’s me, uh...it’s you, actually. I’m you, before everything...left.” Hank glanced behind himself, making sure he was alone to record his message. 

“Listen, if you’re watching this, you probably don’t know the answers to those questions I put on our phone. And if that’s the case, there’s a few things I need you to do for us.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“First thing, before you watch this, make sure you’re alone. Then, I want you to go upstairs, to your room. You’re going to see a dresser against the far wall, on it will be a blue lamp. In the top left drawer, way in the back, there will be a bottle of pills.” 

Hank shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then leaned forward, 

“Now, this is the really important part so I need you to listen to me. You’re gonna take all of them. Get some water if you have to, but it’s really important that you take  _ all _ of them. After they’re gone, you’re gonna lie down, on the bed, and go to sleep. That’s it. Simple.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment. “They’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Hank saved the video and placed it in a folder, simply labeled ‘Sumo’. The folder was placed on his desktop, where Hank paused to study the photo of Connor and himself, just after the android was given an official detective’s badge. He looked  _ proud _ . He  _ was  _ proud. Connor had earned that badge. From start to finish, Connor was the one who made it possible for an android to even be on the payroll. Even Reed, standing in the background with crossed arms, seemed less hateful that day. 

It was a good memory. Hank would be sorry to lose it.

* * *

“The fuck do you mean?” Hank shouted in distress. “You can’t  _ do _ that!”

Fowler steepled his fingers in front of his face and then patiently pressed his palms to his desk. “You’re a great cop, Anderson. I’m not saying that you aren’t. You’re the best fucking cop we’ve ever had.”

“So why are you doing this to me?” Hank asked, leaning over the desk. He sounded more sad than angry. “Fowler,  _ please _ . This is my life. I  _ can’t…” _

Fowler’s eyes were filled with sorrow. It was hard to see a man as good as Hank going through this. “I’m sorry, Hank. I really am.” His voice was softer than Hank had ever heard it. “But you’re forgetting your duties, you’re getting lost, and you can’t even remember the Miranda rights. Man, how am I supposed to keep you on? I don’t wanna do this, Hank. I tried to keep you on as long as I could convince the commissioner that you were still... _ you _ , but my hands are tied.”

Hank understood, but that didn’t make it any easier. “I’m still me, Jeff.” 

“I know you are, Hank.” Jeffrey looked tired. He could hardly look Hank in the eyes. “I know you are.”

Hank stood up straight, recognizing the finality in his voice. There was nothing they could do. Jeffrey was right. He just wasn’t the lieutenant he used to be. The public deserved better. The DPD deserved better. He could get them in a lot of trouble, being a cop who couldn’t remember how to be a cop. It was time.

Hank unclipped the badge from his belt and set it, along with his service pistol, on Fowler’s desk.

“It’s been a good run.” Jeff said quietly as Hank stared down at the two things that had given meaning to much of his life. 

“Yeah, man. It sure has.” Hank nearly whispered, grief choking his words. 

“Go home, get some rest,” Jeff told him, barely holding back tears. “Captain’s orders.”

Hank nodded and rubbed at the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment before walking out of Fowler’s glass office. He felt like he was in a haze, numb with it all.

“They finally kick you off the team, old man?” A voice to his left snickered, and without paying much attention to who it was, Hank’s fist connected with a face and within the next moment, he was being forced off of the other man by a pair of thin, plastic arms. 

“Hank, calm down!” A voice in his ear demanded, a voice he barely recognized. “Hank you have to breathe, okay?”

Hank took some deep breaths, the foggy haze clearing. He was being held back, by Connor. There was blood on his fist and he was out of breath from the wild amount of aggression he was still feeling. 

“Ahh fuck! You broke my goddamn nose again!” That voice -  _ Reed _ \- shouted. 

“Think you deserved that one, Gav.” Another voice - a woman he didn’t recognize - chuckled as she pressed tissues into Gavin’s hands. She then turned to Hank. “Are you okay, Lieutenant?”

“Is  _ he _ okay?” Gavin cried, holding a tissue to his nose. “He broke my  _ fucking _ nose!”

Hank’s brows furrowed and he hesitated before answering. “Bad day. Really fucking bad day.”

Connor gently herded him toward the exit, draping his coat over his shoulders as they stepped outside, “I’m sorry Hank.”

Hank met his eyes and frowned, “Why are you sorry?”

“I…” Connor hesitated, LED spinning between yellow and red. “I told Fowler about your...diagnosis.” He looked ashamed of himself. “It wasn’t my place. I was just worried for you.”

Hank stepped back, swallowing hard. This was an  _ attack _ . “You got me fired.”

Connor looked desperate, “I didn’t mean- you weren’t fired, right? It’s only retirement. Hank, I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t.” Hank said harshly, holding his bloodied hand up. “I’ve been working here for twenty-five  _ fucking _ years! This was my life. Now what do I do? Sit around the house -  _ your _ house - and listen to jazz all day? Do word puzzles until my brain leaks out of my fucking ears?”

Connor glanced around as Hank raised his voice, eyes watering slightly. His stress levels were most definitely elevated, LED now a solid red.

“You don’t  _ get _ to decide what I do, Connor! You haven’t been around since...you’re just...my fucking  _ android _ . You’re not even my s-” He was panting slightly in his anger and frustration, lashing out to hurt anyone just as bad as he was hurting. “Cole wouldn’t have done this to me.”

Connor’s big brown eyes flashed with something that looked like pure grief. “Please, Hank. Let’s just go home.” He begged quietly. He knew Hank’s cruel words weren’t true. He knew he didn’t mean them.

Hank merely huffed as he slid into the passenger side of his own car and Connor flinched when he slammed the door.

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon when Connor and Markus got married, as if the clouds parted and the air warmed just for them. They read their vows in the backyard, surrounded by the gorgeous flowers that Connor had so meticulously planted. In some ways, it resembled the garden in his mind, but this was a safe place. Amanda couldn’t hurt him here. 

Hank was the one at Connor’s side, accompanying him down the aisle toward his future husband. His dearest boy, his only  _ living _ son. It was a good day for everyone, Hank included. 

He had good days and bad days, but this was a good day. 

When Connor pledged his life to Markus, Hank felt tears well up in his eyes. He was afraid, more often than not, that he wouldn’t have this. When Cole passed, he pretty much lost all hope that he would ever attend another wedding. And then when he was diagnosed, he was constantly worried that he may not be all  _ there _ to attend Connor’s. 

He rarely felt like himself anymore, always forgetting simple words or misplacing important things. Just yesterday, he’d gotten lost in the fucking  _ house _ , in search of the bathroom. Connor had to get him to the shower, despite his protests. It was fucking  _ humiliating _ , but Connor was so kind and so diligent. He helped Hank without a single complaint, and he never made him feel like a child. Hank was able to maintain his dignity and Connor’s respect, despite the several embarrassing and undignified positions he found himself in.

But today; today was a good day. Today, he was Hank. He could be here for Connor and for Markus. 

When the cello began to play again, Hank was drawn into a sweet memory. Standing, with his new wife, at the altar. She was so beautiful; pink cheeks, red lips, and long lashes that framed chocolate eyes. Her hair was dark and brushed her lace-covered shoulders in soft ringlets. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life. She was his entire world; and he vowed, in that moment, that he would do anything to keep her in it. 

Then, when he met his son, when he first held him in his arms, he discovered an even deeper sort of love. Unconditional and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He shared that love for his wife; who had given life to the little blue bundle in his arms. 

And for a third time, standing in front of a food truck closed for business; when a very special andr- no, a very special  _ young man  _ met him with a soft and cautious smile. After everything they’d been through; all the pain, fear, healing, and heartache, they found each other and Hank realized; all the times he’d won his solo-games of Russian Roulette - it was for a reason.  _ Fate _ . He wasn’t done being a father. 

The cello brought him back again, along with delighted cheering as two lovers embraced in front of their friends-made-family. Hank was confused for just a second, momentarily forgetting who they were, until they were announced, happily, as Markus and Connor Manfred. 

His son -  _ Connor _ \- was married. Hank blinked and then began clapping with the others, standing up and giving his boy a wink when he turned his grinning face to seek Hank out. 

Hank knew it now; Connor would be okay.

* * *

“It was right here!” Hank cried out, gesturing wildly at his bed and table. It was four in the morning, and Hank had woken up to find that his phone was gone. It was too important to lose! It had his questions!

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere, Hank. You need to get some rest. We’ll find it in the morning.” Markus frowned, hands on his hips. Connor was busy checking the mattress and drawers, knowing that it was better to indulge Hank than to argue with him, especially at four in the morning when he should be sleeping.

“No!” Hank shook his head. “No, I have to- I  _ need _ it.” Hank began tearing through his closet, pulling out clothes piece by piece in search of his phone. 

He turned his head when he felt someone kneel beside him, a gentle hand on Hank’s back. “Hank, I will help you find it tomorrow. In fact, I’ll stay up all night to look, okay?” He promised. “You’ll have it in the morning. I promise.”

Hank frowned and pushed Connor’s hand away. “No. I need it!” He shouted and Connor’s LED spun yellow for a moment.

Markus sighed and shook his head slightly before gesturing to the door. “I’ll put on some coffee and thirium.” He knew this would take a while.

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor nodded and then began helping Hank search his closet. 

Three days later, Connor found Hank’s phone in the freezer. Hank was happy to have it back. . The phone had been missing for a week with no trace, yet Hank mentioned only losing it the night before. 

As he watched Hank scroll through his notes, Connor couldn’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. A persistent ache that just came with watching someone he loved lose himself.

* * *

Hank stared down at the little tombstone at his feet, reading the dates over and over in his head. Were they supposed to mean something to him? Anderson was  _ his _ name, wasn’t it?

Hank glanced over at the android by his side and then again at the marble, made slightly wet by the drizzle coming down around them. “Cole.” He read out loud. “Was he your brother?” He asked, noting the similarity in their names. Connor and Cole. Even the photo of the little boy framed on the stone looked a bit like him.

“You could say that,” Connor smiled softly and set a hand on top of the stone. “I certainly consider him my brother.”

“Oh,” Hank said quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Connor looked over at him, eyes sad and LED yellow. Hank had just met him today, but he already knew that meant he was upset. 

“Hank, do you know what today is?” Connor asked, gesturing to the fresh, brightly-colored flowers they’d placed in the vase. When Hank struggled to remember, Connor looked back down at the stone. “It’s Cole’s birthday.”

For some odd reason, that fact made Hank’s chest feel heavy. He supposed it was because the boy died so young. He’d never even gotten to live, really. 

“He would have been 15 today.” Connor told him and looped his arm around Hank’s. It was clear that there was something else he wanted to say, unsure if he should.

“15.” Hank repeated, hanging his head and struggling to push past the foggy haze that blocked  _ something _ from his mind. He felt like there was more to the story; more that he should  _ know _ . “How...who...” Hank’s brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, his head aching at the effort he was putting into remembering. What was it? What was his mind hiding? Why did it hurt so much?

Connor’s LED hovered on a bright red. “Hank...Cole is your son.”

The look Hank gave him was one of shock and it quickly crumpled into a grief so strong that Connor could feel it radiating from Hank’s heart. 

It came back to him. Sometimes that happened. Sometimes it didn’t. But it never hurt him less.

It was like reliving that moment, all over again. Discovering that your son, your precious child, was gone. Again and again, every single time, and paired with the guilt of forgetting them. But Hank deserved to know. Hank would want to know; he would  _ never _ want to forget Cole, no matter how much it hurt to remember. 

Connor wrapped an arm around Hank’s shoulders and pressed his forehead against his temple. Hank leaned into his touch and they stood there, together in the cold, late-September drizzle.

* * *

Hank sighed out loud as the warm tones of Etta James’ marvelous voice swirled around him, playing gently from his laptop speakers.  _ This _ , he remembered. This, he could never forget. There was something in music that brought him back; made him  _ Hank _ again. On his bad days, after lashing out in frustration, Connor would usually sit quietly with him as he closed his eyes and got lost in the music. They might play a hand of cards, or maybe a game of chess, but nothing brought him home like music. 

As he listened to the slow and sweet birdsong, Hank began to study the faces on his wallpaper. He wondered who those people were; why did they look so happy? What were their lives like? What sort of music did they like to listen to? They seemed very close, almost like family. The younger of the two was all smiles and warmth, like sunshine, and the older man seemed to be warmed just by his presence. 

A whine to his right alerted him to the fact that there was a dog in the room with him. A massive dog with the biggest head Hank had ever seen. He reached down and scratched that head, smiling just a little. “How ya doin’ puppy?” He hummed fondly. “Are you bored too?” 

The big dog gave another whine and rolled onto his back. Hank spent a good five minutes petting his belly before turning back to the laptop. What had he been trying to do again?

He frowned with frustration when he couldn’t remember and began clicking and opening folders to see if anything would spark his memory. The third folder he opened contained only one video file and he opened it with some interest.

“Uh...hey. It’s me, uh...it’s you, actually. I’m you, before everything...left.” Hank blinked at the man on the screen. If this was  _ him _ , why didn’t he recognize himself? “Listen, if you’re watching this, you probably don’t know the answers to those questions I put on our phone. And if that’s the case, there’s a few things I need you to do for us.” Hank watched himself give a long sigh. He didn’t remember a phone or any sort of questions he was supposed to be answering, but he supposed that qualified for whatever came next.

“First thing, before you watch this, make sure you’re alone.” Hank paused the video for a moment and listened hard. He  _ was _ alone, except for the dog, but he didn’t think that big lump of fur would care very much. He seemed to be asleep anyway. So Hank unpaused the video.

“Then, I want you to go upstairs, to your room. You’re going to see a dresser against the far wall, on it will be a blue lamp. In the top left drawer, way in the back, there will be a bottle of pills. Now, this is the  _ really _ important part so I need you to listen to me. You’re gonna take all of them. Get some water if you have to, but it’s really important that you take  _ all _ of them. After they’re gone, you’re gonna lie down on the bed and go to sleep. That’s it. Simple.” 

Hank paused the video again, going over the steps in his head. “Upstairs, room, dresser with blue lamp. Top left drawer. Pills...bed.” He repeated that three times as he stood and made his way to the stairs. 

He was only halfway up when he realized he didn’t know what color the lamp was supposed to be.

Hank went back down to his laptop and rewound the video, listening to himself explain it again. “...go upstairs, to your room. You’re going to see a dresser against the far wall, on it will be a blue lamp. In the top left drawer, way in the back, there will be a bottle of pills.”

Hank went to the stairs again but then paused at the top. Once he got to the dresser with the blue lamp, he knew there were pills...somewhere. He didn’t know which drawer. 

Hank returned to his laptop once again. “In the top left drawer, way in the back, there will be a bottle of pills. Now, this is the  _ really _ important part so I need you to listen to me. You’re gonna take all of them. Get some water if you have to, but it’s really important that you take  _ all _ of them. After they’re gone, you’re gonna lie down on the bed and go to sleep.”

Hank took two steps toward the stairs but then decided to carry his laptop with him, listening to the video once again as he went. Finally, he made it to his room and his eyes locked onto the blue lamp, sitting atop his dresser just like the video said it would be. Hank set the laptop on his bed and played it once more. “- water if you have to, but it’s really important that you take  _ all _ of them. After they’re gone, you’re gonna lie down on the bed and go to sleep. That’s it. Simple.” There was a pause. “They’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Hank went to his drawer and pulled out the small orange bottle, exactly where the video said it would be. Scrawled across a post-it note and stuck to the bottle were the words, “Take ALL”. Hank nodded. He could do that. 

He carried the bottle of pills to the bathroom and then stood, reading the sticky note over and over again. What would these do to him? The video said he’d go to sleep, but this seemed like an awful lot of pills for one nap. But the sticky note said to take them all, and he wanted to prove to himself that he could complete this one task, by himself. 

Hank emptied his toothbrush cup into the sink and then filled it with water, glancing at the man in the mirror. He looked pale, his hair limp and his cheeks gaunt. He looked like a shadow of the man in the video. 

Hank opened the bottle of pills and spilled them out into his hand, rolling them around a bit in his palm. He was just about to bring them to his mouth when he heard a whine and a scratch on the door. It was the dog. 

Hank lowered his hand for a moment and stared at the door. He supposed he could take his nap after taking a walk. It was a nice day. 

Hank poured the pills back into their bottle and left the bottle on the sink before heading out and giving the giant dog a scratch behind the ear. “We have to be quick.”

The dog wagged his tail and gave Hank’s hand a nudge.

* * *

“Hank, may I ask you a question?” Connor asked suddenly, during one of their card games. It wasn’t exactly a game anymore as Hank wasn’t able to play as well as he used to. He just liked to hold the cards and look through them, but Connor would oblige him.

Hank pulled his eyes from the brightly colored art and met a pair of deep brown eyes. They comforted him, even if he didn’t know why.

“Do...do you want to be here anymore?” Connor asked as if it pained him. He’d found the video and the pills in Hank’s bathroom. It scared him a great deal, so he was taking time off to care for Hank around the clock. Fowler understood, of course. He was just glad Hank had someone who wanted to be there for him. 

Hank glanced around them and then frowned at Connor, lifting his cards up a bit. “We’re not done with our game. Do we have to go somewhere?”

Connor glanced at the cards in his own hands and then took a deep breath, LED spinning on yellow. He then gave Hank a pleasant smile, albeit fake, and shook his head. “Of course not. I was just wondering.”

Hank hummed quietly and went back to the cards, slowly flipping through them as Connor watched him, wondering what it was like to always live in the very immediate present. Never the future, and never the past. All Hank knew, at this stage, was the here and now. 

The progression, he learned, had been very quick in Hank’s case because he was so intelligent. What a cruel irony it was that deterioration happened in direct proportion to education. The smartest man Connor had ever known barely knew where he was, and Connor had to sit by and watch Hank lose more of himself every day. He couldn’t do anything about it. 

* * *

Three years following Hank’s diagnosis, Connor was sitting beside him in a hospital bed, reading to him the old and battered well-wishes cards sent from their friends. Connor smiled when he opened one with a goofy little St. Bernard puppy with an ice pack on his head. It was Hank’s favorite. He smiled every time he saw it. 

“ _ You’re an asshole but I guess you’re pretty cool sometimes. Sucks what’s happening. Hope the tin can is treating you well _ ,” He read out loud. “ _ Miss you, man. G.R. _ ”

Hank leaned his temple over on Connor’s shoulder and took the card, opening and closing it a few times. He then set it on his lap and reached for another, silently asking for Connor to read it too.

Connor sighed when he saw it was his own, trying his best to stay calm and keep his voice even as he read it to Hank.

“ _ Hank, _

_ You are the best friend I have ever had and the best father I could ever hope for. The memories we’ve made will be forever with me, and I will replay them over and over when I miss you. I wish, more than anything, that I could replay them for you. Even if you cannot remember it, I promise that your life was a good one. You have left everyone you met with a piece of yourself, and if there is a heaven for humans, I have no doubts that you will be there. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me; for freeing my heart and my mind. You might have told me, once, that you had nothing to do with that but, Hank, you had everything to do with it. You freed me. You made me want to live; not as an android, but as the person you believed that I was. I do not have the words to express my appreciation for you, so please forgive the length of this message. I love you, Hank. _

_ Your son, _

_ Connor _ ”

Hank had closed his eyes as he listened, still leaning against Connor’s arm. Eventually his breathing slowed and evened out, and Connor, realizing that he’d fallen asleep, pulled the blanket over both of them. He didn’t know how long Hank had left, but he knew that he would never stop fighting for him. It was the least that he could do, after everything.

His battle wasn’t over yet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Who Are We?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205690) by [HMSquared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMSquared)




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